Today is a hard day.
For many reasons.
Today marks 8 months since we’ve been waiting for Jonathan and David to join our family. 8 months of loving these two little boys and still not really knowing them. 8 months of praying and aching and trusting God to place them in our arms but being at the exact same place we were in the process 8 months ago, except maybe 2 steps back from it (more on that later). 8 months of “waiting purgatory” (I saw it described as that yesterday and the description is perfect for what this 8 months has felt like). 8 months of waking every morning hopeful that something wonderful and positive happened in Ethiopia while we slept, but instead the only surprises have been horribly sad and hard things happening while we sleep. 8 months of trying desperately to find the balance of being joyfully expectant and ready for God to work miracles, but realistic and open to whatever he sees fit to do. 8 months of begging him to please not wait to bring them home until I learn every lesson I need to learn in the wait, because I know I won’t and can’t.
Worst of all, 8 months of these precious lives that we’ve missed and 8 months of family that they have missed.
8 months ago today, we saw this precious face for the first time:
Jonathan at 4 months
We knew the minute we saw him and that he was the older of the two babies that he would be Jonathan, because we’ve always known our first born son would be Jonathan.
So today, 8 months later, he’s one year old.
And while we don’t know his exact birthday, we’re here stuck in the middle of rejoicing and weeping.
Oh we celebrate his life. How often I have praised God for creating and protecting and preserving this precious boy. We are SO THANKFUL that he was born and so thankful that he was found and brought to a place where he was safe and fed and cared for, and “given” to us to love and pray for and hope for.
But we ache that we’ve missed his first birthday, and more significantly, his whole first year. Instead of being in a family, he has been passed from place to place and person to person. Even in just what we know, he’s been moved 4 times in this year, and that doesn’t include where he was before we knew about him. I can hardly bear to think about how his young and tender heart has hurt in his short life and wonder and pray that God would bring redemption and healing and glory from it all.
Jonathan at 5 months
Jonathan at 8 months
Jonathan at 9 months
I never wanted to share photos of them on here until I was allowed to share their whole precious faces. But that was when I thought it would be 2 or 3 months until they were officially our sons.
Today I am putting these up for 2 reasons. One is in honor or Jonathan’s birthday, so you can get even a glimpse of that precious smile and cuddly little body. He is fearfully and wonderfully made and we praise GOD, his creator and sustainer.
The second reason is that today we heard more bad news about the situation in the southern region where the boys are. Things are looking more and more like we won’t be able to adopt them, at least for a very very long time, and I want to share them with you while they are still, in a very real but unofficial way, my boys.
This has been a hard 8 months and it doesn’t look like the coming months will get any easier.
But it’s been 8 months of seeing God provide in new and extravagant ways. It’s been 8 months of being desperate and asking for help and prayers again and again and again and watching God’s people step up and be his arms and feet and voice to us. It’s been 8 months of asking God how I am going to do this another day (“do this”, meaning not be able to do anything but wait and pray) and watching Him bring me to the close of every day having survived the wait and even seen his goodness and felt his blessings over and over again. It’s been 8 months of digging in the depths of my heart and seeing the ugliness and faithlessness and self-sufficiency that is so rooted there. It’s been 8 months of being totally honest with God and finding Him to be my rock, a total safe place for my anxious heart. It’s been 8 months (well, maybe 6) of telling God, “this isn’t what I signed up for,” and hearing him remind me gently, “Yes it is. You signed up for this when you said you trusted me.”
Looking back on these 8 months makes me dread the coming months, but looking back makes me know we can face them with confidence. Not because we know what will happen (we feel more in the dark about that than ever before), but because these last 8 months have taught us a tiny bit more about trusting Jesus on this crazy ride.
Psalm 9:7-10
7 But the LORD abides forever;
He has established His throne for judgment,
8 And He will judge the world in righteousness;
He will execute judgment for the peoples with equity.
9 The LORD also will be a stronghold for the oppressed,
A stronghold in times of trouble;
10 And those who know Your name will put their trust in You,
For You, O LORD, have not forsaken those who seek You.
Continue reading about 8 months and my favorite one-year-old
When she isn’t totally consumed with the role of her alter-ego, Princess Noa…
My sweet firstborn just wants to be a little Mama.
So, while I was a little surprised, I shouldn’t have been when she started crying when she saw the new photos we got of Jonathan and David a few weeks ago.
When I asked her what was wrong, she said, “I just wanted them to be tiny babies! They’re so big now.”
It’s true. The new photos show both boys with sweet little rolls on their arms and legs, and the most kissable rounded cheeks. They’ve both gotten so much taller in the last several months since our last photos, and they look quite healthy – all wonderful signs and we praise God so much for this.
I thought what Noa said was sweet and cute and shared it with a chuckle with several friends. Still, when thinking about it later I couldn’t keep my own tears at bay.
Yes, we want them to grow and flourish, but we so wish they were doing that growing here. I know that Noa, like me, doesn’t want the boys to stay tiny forever, she just wanted to know and love and care for them as tiny babies – as did I.
I remember back in April, when we were only a little over a month into our wait of knowing the boys and hoping to go to court for them, I remember sharing with my sister-in-law that I felt so despairing regarding the boys. It wasn’t that I doubted if they’d come home, but I just hated thinking of all the time we were missing with them. I LOVE all the big and little changes in my babies in their first year, and I just hated the thought of all we would miss. And that was when I thought we were only 1-3 months away from bringing them home.
Now, as we approach Jonathan’s first birthday in November, over six months into our wait for them, I still find my heart tempted to despair. On top of still hating every day of their babyhood that we’re missing, we also face the huge fear of missing their lives and never getting them home.
It just strikes me as almost comical how naive I was going into this. I never dreamed I would ache and cry and hurt so much through this process. I never thought I would come head to head with despair so often and many times feel like I am losing the battle. I never thought about how the hoping and waiting and disappointment would hurt the tender hearts of the sweetest little big sisters that I know.
Seriously, friends. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your prayers. And, please keep praying. We have felt them and we believe and hope the Lord will bring great fruition from them – in the lives of these precious babies, and in our own hearts as well. I can’t imagine walking this road without so many shoring us up through their love and care and most of all prayers.
Now,
When I think back on how the summer has unfolded, I get so sad to think that until the middle of May we were really hoping/expecting to have traveled to Ethiopia at least once by now, and would have been home preparing a place for the boys and awaiting the call to go get them any day. I SO hoped the summer would unfold that way. So whenever I thought about coming up to VA and staying for a bit, I didn’t really want to because I knew that would mean a hold-up in our adoption.
I can’t begin to fathom the depth of the wisdom of God and why He does things the way he does them. I don’t know why he is allowing us and our boys to wait longer to be united as a family. Earlier this summer it caused me so much distress to weigh what I know about his love and sovereignty against my present circumstances, and especially against Jonathan and David’s circumstances.
I can see good reasons why it may be “good” for the five of us to wait for them. We are growing in patience. We’re learning about prayer and trust. Gloria is in a particularly busy stage – it’s nice to have the time to devote to helping her learn to communicate and obey and know her boundaries. Noa and Martha have a newfound interest in “schoolwork” and we’re having fun learning lots of new things together, time I probably wouldn’t have with two little babies to care for. There are other things too. I can see the “goodness” in our wait.
But I struggle to see how it is “good” for the baby boys. More time in an orphanage? More time away from their forever family? More time without the health and medical resources available to them here? More time learning to fend for themselves because they don’t know if and who will be meeting their many needs?
Well, I still don’t know. And it still makes me weep when I let my mind fly across the ocean and wonder what they are doing this very moment, and plead with the Father that supernaturally they would know they are loved and cherished.
But the Lord (and it is truly the Lord – PRAISE HIM) has been gracious to give me a peace in the not knowing. He has used his Word time and again to speak comfort and peace to me, and to remind me of his great faithfulness.
And he has changed my mourning of a summer that didn’t go as I planned, to rejoicing in the good gifts he has given in this time as a family of 5 that we didn’t anticipate we’d have. The blessings are too numerous to count, but I will share some in the next few weeks. He is so good!
One gift I am treasuring is this sweet time with my girls. The last several months of the paper-chase and fund raising for our adoption were busy, and sometimes I was so focused on working to get the boys that I struggled to find the time and emotions to just enjoy these precious three girls.
These last several weeks with no paperwork, no fundraising, few phone calls, and LOTS of time together have been so sweet. Traveling together and the little adventures we’ve had have been precious times of bonding and growing in my enjoyment of these little ladies and the wonderful and unique way the Lord has shaped each of them. They are such fun, and while I long for the day we grow with the addition of their brothers, I am seeing this season of having just the three of them for the gift that it is. Truly, things will never be the same!
So I am savoring this stage - this girly, frilly, feminine stage of our family. We hope and pray it won’t last much longer, but it is a special gift that we have so enjoyed. When I imagined the family God would give me, I never dreamed I would have “all girls”. And yet here I am, so awestruck at the perfection of God’s design in building our family the way he has built it. I am so grateful.
Thank you, God, for the gift of these girls. Thank you for the special ways you have blessed and grown Eric and I through this unique blessing of being an “all girl” family. Thank you for giving us your very best in giving us Noa, Martha, and Gloria. And thank you for giving them each other. What gifts they have found in the joys of sisterhood, and what gifts lie ahead there too. Thank you, God.
In my last post, I shared our great news, as well as how it is making me feel.
I wrote: And I’ll be honest. I’m humbled because in the midst of such provision and grace, I still fear, I still worry, I’m still so faithless. I think,”Lord, did you know who you were dealing with when you called us to this? Did you know that I could have a mountain of an ebenezer before me, and still so quickly forget, so quickly fear?”
Here’s a little of where I’m coming from with that:
A month ago we had an event at church called “The Grace of Adoption” and it was an incredible evening. Within 24 hours, through people who came to that and through others, the Lord provided over $16,000 in gifts and pledges toward our adoption. $16000 in 24 hours! Yes, that’s almost half our adoption costs.
We cried. We rejoiced. We praised God. We shared the incredible news with anyone we could. It was amazing. You have to agree – it’s amazing! And God did it.
But in those same 24 hours, as so much of the worry and stress about money for the adoption melted off, it was replaced by more fear and worry about the situation in Ethiopia than I have felt throughout the entire process. Nothing about that situation had changed in those 24 hours. In fact, I could reason that since God was showing us so much favor in the area of finances for the adoption, then surely that meant he would show us favor by making a way and getting us a court date.
But I’ve been realizing a pattern of my heart that overflowed into the fear and worry that overtook me in those days (and continues to threaten on a moment by moment basis).
I still see myself as an orphan.
Or, rather, I still don’t see God for the loving Father that he is. I not only believe the lie that he will give me a snake instead of fish (Matthew 7:9-11), but in my twisted theology, I imagine he dresses the snake up as fish to make it more devastating.
Oh, that sounds so horrible to write, to admit for you to read. But it’s sadly true. And as I’ve examined my heart and the Lord has gently revealed his Word to me these last weeks, I’ve seen my unbelief for what it is: so ugly, so stupid, so downright full of contempt in the face of all the proof I have of my Father’s love.
These have been good, hard weeks of relearning things I thought I already knew. Sometimes I find myself chanting, “I am not an orphan, I am not an orphan, I am NOT an orphan.” And I’m not. I have a Father who loved me so much that he paid the highest price I can imagine – HIS SON – that the ransom for my adoption might be paid in full.
I am learning that my circumstances are not a barometer of God’s love for me. He already proved it and graciously gives me glimpses on this side of heaven of how he is working all things for my good. But sometimes I don’t catch those glimpses and He’s teaching me to thank him still.
I just finished One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp, and the Lord knew it was a timely read for me. I highly recommend this gem of a book. I highly recommend counting gifts.
Here’s just one (of many) nuggets from her that God has used to teach me:
“The good news that all those living in the land of the shadow of death have been birthed into new life, that the transfiguration of a suffering world has already begun. That suffering nourishes grace, and pain and joy are arteries of the same heart – and mourning and dancing are but movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty. Can I believe the Gospel, that God is patiently transfiguring all the notes of my life into the song of His Son?
What in the world, in all this world, is grace?
I can say it certain now: All is grace.
I see through the woods of the world: God is always good and I am always loved…
Because eucharisteo [giving thanks] is how Jesus, at the Last Supper, showed us to transfigure all things – take the pain that is given, give thanks for it, and transform it into a joy that fulfills all emptiness…
The hard discipline to give thanks for all things at all times because He is all good.” (from pg. 100 of One Thousand Gifts )
My Father is always good. I am learning that even through hardship (not just this hardship but the many that I see all around, pouring down on those I love), my Father is not off his throne, nor is he loving his children any less. It’s so mysterious to me.
Yet, it all makes perfect sense when I experience how giving thanks truly brings joy amidst the sorrow. Though I HATE this wait, I wouldn’t trade the grace of God in my life to be revealing these orphan-tendencies of my heart, of making me wrestle and become certain of his love, of the desperate neediness that has called me more than ever before to his throne of grace in prayer. I HATE being out of control, but oh how sweet it has been to fling myself on Jesus, to search my heart and find I have nowhere else to turn but to Him, claiming his complete control. And I hate being fearful (and never have I struggled with such desperate fear as I have for my boys, and my own breaking heart), but I have seen the miracle that perfect love casts out fear. His perfect love, when I meditate on it and the certainty of it washes over me, “bids my anxious fears subside”. There is such freedom there.
And so I wait and struggle to camp myself there – basking in his love and learning to thank Him. The stand-still-stop delay that is happening in Ethiopia is still not cleared up, and it seems it will be several weeks before it is, if it is. In and of myself, the situation is desperate – not just there but in my heart. Praise God for the truth of his Word, and that it is living and active. Praise God he hasn’t stopped working on my heart, no matter how slow and forgetful I am.
Yeah… I am feeling pretty humbled.
And SO VERY thankful.
A few weeks ago I was sorting through clothes that were Oliver’s that Mary Stuart gave me for our little guys. I was trying to decide if I should send them all over, and if not, which ones. Some thoughts that were going through my head:
Will these fit the boys? It says 3-6 months, but I know they are small for their ages…
Will they wear them? I know orphanages just have big group closets, so they may actually never wear these sweet hand-me-downs from their cousin.
And the hardest thoughts, Will I ever see the boys in these or any other clothes I pick out for them? Are these the only things I will ever get to give to these precious ones who have stolen my heart?
You know, we call them our sons, we pray for them, we love them from afar, we have great dreams for them, but technically they are not ours. One change of law or policy could render this whole adoption impossible and we could never even meet them, much less bring them home and make them part of our family. We think about that sometimes. My mind goes there too often.
Now even if I wanted to, I couldn’t “guard my heart” from these boys. One look at them and I was a gonner. But I haven’t even tried that. From before we saw their faces I was all in.
Eric and I were talking about this the other night. He worries – out of love and care for me and our girls – that I am setting myself up to be heartbroken if something doesn’t go as planned. And he has good reason. I will be heartbroken if this adoption doesn’t go through. I will miss those boys for the rest of my life. I mean, I miss them more each and every day that I know about them and love them. It’s arleady heartbreaking.
And as I’ve thought and prayed about this, wondering if I am doing something destructive to myself by letting my heart be all in this, I’ve come to realize a few things.
One is that I am so blessed. Blessed beyond measure. The Lord has dealt so gently and graciously with me. Not only materially, but especially emotionally and spiritually. I have few, if any scars or deep hurts from my past. I have been given amazing people in my life, an incredible support system of family and friends all over the world. SO many people have poured themselves into me. Most of all, my Lord has poured himself out for me and poured his Spirit into me. He’s given me himself and I have everything in him plus so much more. My cup overflows.
And these boys, they have nothing. Materially they have nothing to their name. Even the toys and clothes we sent over will go into the communal closet. More devastating, though, is that there is no one pouring into their hearts. No one in their corner, no one committed to them for life.
And you know what I think? I can risk my full-to-overflowing heart being broken for them. For some reason – I hope and pray it is because they are part of our family – the Lord has put these boys in our lives and engraved their faces and names on our hearts. Even if I never get to meet them, I will count it a joy to love them from afar, to pray for them as I do the children who are legally mine, to be invested in their lives. I may be the only person who ever does that for them.
So, I’m trusting God with my heart – the one He has had my whole life, the one he has so filled and blessed based on no merit of my own and only on his great love – and pouring it out in any way that I can for these precious boys across the ocean. It’s what he’s done for me. He poured out his love and his blood while I was still far off. He advocates for me before the Father, even when my heart is rebellious and astray. What a privilege to mirror that love – to give fully with no guarantee of a return – for these precious boys.
Like I said, we believe the Lord will bring the these boys home into our family and they will be ours in every sense of the word. Most days I feel confident of that. But sometimes I begin to wonder if that may not be his plan for bringing us down this road, for putting these boys in our lives. And I realize how devastating it will be – for me, for Eric, for these girls who adore their “brothers” already. I also realize, though, I can’t be anywhere but where I am with these boys, my boys. I’m all in.
Big sisters sending some things - and so much LOVE - to Jonathan and David.
I’ve had this knot in my stomach for the last several weeks as we’ve waited for this week to come. And now it’s here and I am dreading what Wednesday will hold. My big brother Jonathan, my sister by marriage and sister of my heart Maggie, and my precious fireball nieces Annie and Lily will fly away to South Asia to begin the life and ministry we’ve all been anticipating for them for so long. I knew the day would come, but it sure seems to have come much quicker than I thought, and the ache that has accompanied their last days here has been potent, to say the least. While the Lord has heaped blessing upon blessing on us in our time here in Orlando, the gift of getting to live near this precious family – family that was already beloved to us – and become such close friends as well has been the greatest highlight. It is a gift I have marveled at time and again. In fact, if you asked about our life here, I probably mentioned to you what a treasure it has been to me to live side by side with my family for this season, to really know my sister-in-law and count her a closest friend and confidant, to know and be known by my nieces, to watch my children experience the same with their Aunt and Uncle, and to see them enjoy such precious friendships with their cousins (the sweetness of all of these was only made greater by the fact that I grew up on the other side of the world, barely knowing any of my extended family until I moved back to America for college). Truly, this time has been rich for my little family of five, and rich for my heart. And as the last hours of this season slip away over these next several days, I can’t help but cry as I imagine what our lives will look like in the new season, as I anticipate the huge void that will left in their absence. I know we won’t have to miss their faces or their voices, as we have skype. I will just so miss the living that we’ve done together. And amidst my own ache, I can’t help but hurt as I anticipate the ache of two little girls in particular who will continue to ask, as they always do, when Annie and Lily are coming over next or if Annie will be in class at church today, or can we meet Aunt Maggie and Annie and Lily at the park? I know it sounds dramatic, but if you knew the sheer number of hours that go into either being with their cousins, or anticipating being with them, you’d understand how life-changing this will be for Noa and Martha (and Gloria, but she doesn’t know it).
Anyway, this is all very self-centered. This is just what I’m going through right now. I haven’t even touched on how thankful we are for the Lord’s provision and grace that have led these dear ones to this point, or how thrilled we are for their sake (and the sake of the people they go to serve) at what is ahead for them. We just love them so much and selfishly hurt as we send them off.
Would you pray for our precious family as they make this huge step this week? Pray for their hearts as they have so much to do and so many to say goodbye to, and have some major adjustments in the months ahead. And pray for those of us they leave behind who will be missing life with them and adjusting to life without them. And please pray for God’s glory in it all, as that’s what this is all about anyway!
The last few weeks I have been working on a scrapbook to send with them chronicling some of our many moments shared. It was such fun to remember and thank God for all that he did to orchestrate this special time, and I think it was therapeutic for me too. I wanted to highlight a few photos that made it in, though these are only a small fraction.
only days after we arrived in FL... these girls became bffs in no time!
At the beginning, there were only four little girls (and several baby dolls)
But there were soon five! Lily was the first to meet Gloria, and the only cousin or sister to come to the hospital.
Annie and Uncle Eric
Me and Maggs and our big girls
Martha and fun Uncle Jonathan
Lils and Glo and their super smiles
Annie at Noa's tea party
Maggie and Lilsabell
3 happy 2 year olds
These two really love eachother... they can't stop smiling when they get together.
One of my favorite pictures EVER
Jonathan, Maggie, Annie, and Lily:
OH, how we will miss you!
We love you so very much!
love,
Uncle Eh-dic, Ay-say-ya, No-Mar, and Baby Go-iya
